


Unseeing

by SmoothDoggie



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 02:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14534445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoothDoggie/pseuds/SmoothDoggie
Summary: Everyone was convinced that Jessica being back from the dead in this Timeline was such great news for Wyatt Logan. Except for one other person who might just understand a little better than the others, why this might be such a difficult time for the soldier.





	Unseeing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gracielinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gracielinn/gifts).



> Prompted by the work from Gracielinn over on Fanfiction. Her work Curious - which you should totally check out - made me think about how tough this whole second season must be from Wyatt's perspective.
> 
> GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF CORPSES/MENTION OF MURDER/RAPE
> 
> This has not been beta'd - I just needed to get it out there, and off my chest. Please take a second to think from another perspective. It's not always as straight forward as things might appear. Thank you all x
> 
> I really felt that Wyatt was getting just a bit too much of a hard time about his actions since Jessica has come back from the dead. Now, I know that this isn't real, but what if that was to happen? How could he touch her skin without feeling the ice cold, or the feel underneath his finger tips? How can he hear her voice without thinking back to those whispered goodbye and I love you's that passed between them before? How can he look in her eyes without seeing them clouded over and empty, again? I don't know how the man is functioning right now. It's breaking my soul just watching.
> 
> Well, sadly I've just lost my husband (7 months ago) and I still cannot unsee his face the night. I held his hand entirely during the time he left this world. I wish I could have him back, but that's not how real life works. Sadly. Now, I know I'm grieving and it's debilitating. I'm a mess. My heart is shattered and I'm struggling on a huge level.
> 
> Now, Imagine moving past through that hideous phase to a time when you can begin to entertain letting in a new love, someone for that new heart you've grown.
> 
> Wyatt Logan is in an awful predicament. He has felt so much guilt and grief since that night, he has barely existed other than to work, in a dangerous job he frankly hopeful would kill him so he could join the love of his life. Recently his new assignment brought him to Lucy Preston, and with her and Rufus Carlin, they've helped Wyatt to realise his true worth and that life must go on, despite their personal tragedies. Lucy has finally made Wyatt realise that life must go on.

 

The Logan’s stood facing each other in the dingy bathroom inside the underground Bunker where Jessica was learning that time travel was possible.

“You had been murdered.”

“In your reality.” She countered harshly. Eyes rolling as she folded her arms.

“I identified your body, Jess.” Sighing heavily before he could go on. He stepped closer, almost raising his hand to soothe her as he explained, but too unsure of where to touch. “I watched the Coroner put you in the back of a van. I grieved at your funeral, I cried with your family.”

Deciding this time was right, he reached his hand out to touch her arm.

“My whole world ended that night.”

Retreating from him, Jessica shook her head, “That’s impossible.”

Tucking his hand into his jean pocket, dare he make that mistake again, he raised his head and stuck out his chin before delivering the final metaphorical blow.

“Until Connor Mason invented a time machine.”

 

****

 

Wyatt Logan wasn’t sure when he started feeling light headed. He knew this wasn’t how he should be breathing but it had begun coming out in short bursts. His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. 

Realizing he was slumped on the bathroom floor, against the rusted wall with his elbows resting on bent knees. Wyatt kept his head low and tried to slow his breathing. Was he having a panic attack? His heart felt like it was trying to beat itself out of his chest. His palms and underneath his feet slick with sweat; the cold floor permeating his very core.

Yep, clearly he had let it all sink in. His wife was back from the dead and instead of elation and joy, he was on the floor hyperventilating and panicking over his first conversation with his wife in almost six years. His mind was churning, he felt like his head was in a washing machine. 

Even thinking about Jessica standing before him that very afternoon. Finding her behind the bar downtown in the Mission, it was like he’d taken a breath that he couldn’t let out. After all those years of self-recrimination, guilt and grief – somehow he was expected to let that all go and go back to playing happy families. It was so much more complicated than that, he fervently wished the others could understand that. He wished they could understand just why things would never be the same again.

Jessica was back.

Thinking of her face. 

Her smile. 

Those blue eyes.

Suddenly he lurched forward onto his knees, head over the toilet bowl just in time. His mouth went from bone dry to instantly salivating, right before his stomach rejected everything he’d eaten in the past 24 hours.

 

****

 

Silence loomed over the break room. Garcia Flynn could sense the atmosphere within the team the very instant he stepped out onto that platform. Lucy was injured and yet Logan had paused mid way up the steps. He knew what the journal said of these coming weeks. It was going to be hard on them all and there was no way it couldn’t help but affect team dynamics for time to come. The soldier clearly hadn’t stopped to think what bringing his not-so-dead wife to the super-secret Bunker was going to achieve. Of course Logan would want her safe, he would want her close by and wouldn’t want to risk losing her again. Everything that he, himself would want for Lorena: For when he got her back too.

After escorting Lucy to the makeshift Med Bay and ensuring that Jiya and Denise were taking good care of her 17th Century arm injury. Maybe they needed to second a doctor to the team at some point? Noise from the control deck alerted him to the fact Rufus was back there with Connor Mason, discussing the usual backward thinking of colonial times. That left him at a loose end. Flynn debated his desire to check in on Lucy but without interfering, and he certainly planned on keeping out of the Logan’s way; there would be much for them to discuss in private. Certainly while the drama settled down around them.

After he decided that a shower was in order, Garcia headed from his latest cell within the bunker with his towel over his shoulder and soap in hand. Pushing open the door he headed for the toilet side first. Never one to take time for a pee while on a time jump – unless he really had to – it was good to be back using the somewhat primitive bunker facilities, anything was better than the thunder-mug of olden times.

He’d sensed there was someone else within the confined space of the toilet area before he heard the dry retching and spitting that signaled someone vomiting inside the cubicle.

The door to this cubicle was open and although he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. From the look on Delta Force Soldier’s face though, he was the last person Wyatt Logan wanted to see, especially when he was at his most vulnerable.

“This one’s in use, Flynn.” Wyatt leant to shut the cubicle door.

After the door slammed in his face, he paused before deciding to leave the man to his own devices, especially given the day he was having. Flynn was desperate to have Lorena back in his life, desperate to hold her in his arms and to kiss her once more. That said, it was not lost on him that it would also be incredibly unnerving to have his deceased wife back with him after he had watched her murdered in front of him. He had watched her lifeless body fall to the floor that night. He’d witnessed the annihilation of his family in front of his very eyes. The thought of it was enough to bring him to his knees on the bathroom floor.

Gasping for breath he got himself back up, albeit shakily and headed back out of the rest rooms and back to his bunk. At least being a terrorist meant no one wanted to share with him. He’d be sure to thank Agent Christopher next time he had the chance.

Sitting back on his bed, sipping water from a new bottle. Flynn began to feel some sympathy for his fellow soldier. Wyatt Logan had everything he’d wanted, handed to him on a plate, yet he was in a toilet throwing up instead of back in his bunk making up for lost time with his wife.

Flynn could somehow now completely understand why that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. Perhaps he was one of the only people who might understand.

Feeling more resolved to offer whatever modicum of comfort, maybe even an olive branch towards his new teammate; Flynn grabbed another new bottle of water, a clean towel and washcloth. He headed back towards the bathroom stalls.

Before he was through the door he spotted Logan leaning over the sink. Running water over his hands but staring off into the distance, staring so intensely that he was yet to notice his own intervention until Flynn stood behind his right shoulder.

“Come to gloat?” Wyatt whispered hoarsely before returning his attention to his hands in the sink.

“I come in peace,” with his hands raised in mock surrender, he placed the towel, washcloth and water bottle on the small shelving that ran above the sink units. 

“I just thought you might find these useful.”

Never taking his eyes off Flynn, Wyatt watched him intensely through the mirror tiles. The man seemed genuinely intrigued by his gesture. Flynn saw when his inner turmoil came to conclusion and the soldier’s posture deflated in an instant.

“Thanks.” Murmured the southerner somewhat begrudgingly.

Flynn watched the younger man rinse his mouth with the water and then wet the flannel before wiping it across his face. Content that he’d been of some help, Flynn was about to leave when the Texan’s voice broke through the silence again.

“I can’t unsee her dead body.”

 

****

He didn’t know what possessed him to open up to Flynn, who had joined him in the bathroom, though perhaps he was the only other person who might be in a position to understand just how difficult this might be for him. Everyone else, well almost everyone else, saw this as a blessing: A gift.

Jess certainly hadn’t. She had stormed off when he began describing the night he’d last seen her. Explaining about their fight, him leaving her and driving off. Searching for days with Police teams, FBI and the hours in police custody being questioned over and over. The night her body had been discovered was a practical repeat, more hours in questioning and another night in the cells. Every minute detail of their marriage dragged over the coals, every argument, every moment of jealousy. Every personal detail about their work – his in particular – had he brought the battlefield home? The police had wanted to know every excruciating detail about their sex life, their financials, their families and friends, their home and neighbors. Then there are the people they’d both known for most of their lives, some pointing the finger at him, wondering if maybe he had killed his own wife in a fit of jealous rage. That went away when the forensics had cleared him of any involvement. But that didn’t stop the merry-go-round. There was no getting off and starting over. His wife was gone. Raped and murdered, and her body left in bushes off the highway. The very highway he’d left her standing upon. It was his fault. No one could convince him otherwise.

“They say people look peaceful when they’ve passed on,” He began, pausing to sip and swallow more water. “But, that’s not always the case.”

Nodding his agreement Flynn leant against the tiled part of the rustic bathroom.

Pacing back and forth slowly, he didn’t want to talk with Flynn in particular, in fact he didn’t want to talk fullstop. That said, it would be good to get this out of his own head. What could it hurt?

Wyatt began to explain about that night when he’d identified Jessica Logan’s body. That was when he had last seen her. Some six years previous in his timeline. 

“Her eyes were wide open, so dilated.” Swallowing down the fear that was creeping back up from the pit of his stomach, he continued. “She was staring off into the distance. Around her pupils was all clouded over.” The Coroner had explained that this happens because of the muscles die off as life is extinguished. 

“When I saw Lorena fall, I watched the fear in her eyes.” Flynn’s voice broke through his thoughts. He hadn’t realized the man was even still there, let alone listening intently. He had slid to the floor and was seated across from him by the sinks. Somewhat quieter than usual he continued, “I couldn’t reach her, I couldn’t protect her.”

“She had… ah… been strangled,” tears began to fall as he slumped down the door, stopping when his backside met the floor. His eyes shed those tears automatically, without knowing he was even crying, floods flowing down his cheeks puddling them on his t-shirt. “… Er… assaulted too.” 

The violence with which her life had been extinguished left him feeling sick and cold where his skin was covered in a sheen of chilled sweat. His body hair standing on end, goose bumps upon his goose bumps. He was starting to hyperventilate again. 

Wyatt didn’t know how long he talked for, but all the horrific details came tumbling out. Flynn hadn’t said much after admitting his own failure to protect his family, and frankly he’d been grateful to just have someone listen while he emptied his mind of all the gory details. Details he’d only been able to share with the Police over the years since Jessica’s untimely demise. It wasn’t something he could have shared with her parents. Better if he kept the nightmares and guilt all to himself.

Bile caught in his throat, burning as he relived those hours of dread. Fearing the unknown, only to have his worst fears confirmed by the Coroner later that night. And then some. Not had the murdering bastard been content with just taking her from him but he had strangled after he had defiled her first. She was covered in bruises. Her skin a mass of abraisons from where she had tried to fight him off and from where he had held her down, overpowering her with strength and rage.

“Her skin was grey,” he found his voice again, wiping tears from his face. “She was so cold, I was … allowed … to kiss her goodbye.” His voice broke on that last word, and looking over at Flynn he saw the man was shedding his own tears.

“Now I can’t unsee that.” Looking back over at the former NSA Agent. “Now she’s here and her voice, it’s the same but I…” Wyatt couldn’t stop the sob that escaped his throat, leaning his head forward his shoulders shook with anguish.

 

****

Outside the bathroom door, listening with tears in their eyes, were Rufus and Lucy who had gone looking for Wyatt, when they’d heard the exchange between Wyatt and Flynn.

Lucy rushed forward and pulled the soldier's face between her hands and reaching forward she pulled him towards her, into an awkward kneeling hug. Rufus stood with his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, offering comfort in his own way while the soldier sobbed uncontrollably. The pilot exchanged a solemn nod of gratitude and respect with the NSA Agent who promptly excused himself to leave the Time Team to comfort their friend. 


End file.
